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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248120">Everything in Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee'>Nejinee</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>due South</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Cabin Fic, Competency, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, French usage, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Snow, They go to Canada, Wildlife, Winter, post CotW</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:47:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,252</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248120</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray didn’t really <em>get</em> the majesty, the grandeur, of Canada until he came face-to-face with the almighty moose.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Benton Fraser/Ray Kowalski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everything in Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>NOTE:</b> There will be some French in this fic. Not a lot, and nothing truly critical to the story, so no worries. I have tried my best to create hovers for the translations, so those of you on desktops <em>should</em> see the English alts when you hover your cursor over the French text. For those who cannot see the hovers, I have placed the translations in the end notes. :) </p><p>Big, BIG thank-you goes to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard"><b>newsbypostcard</b></a> for expertly translating and crafting my French lines for me. Truly, News is a blessing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Ray always thought he had a good idea of what Canada was. Not in that weird stereotypical way, with the maple syrup and the beavers and the bears, but in a normal, nuanced way. He <em>got</em> Canada, the great white north, all strong and free–whatever the words were. He had a freakin’ mountie as a reference point; A mountie who could drone on for hours and hours about the <em>majesty</em> of Canada’s wildlife, its indigenous people, and also its<em> humane</em> healthcare system. So based on everything Fraser said, Ray figured Canada was a nice place. Nice enough. Nice like Fraser: rounded off with soft edges and easy-going smiles; Nice like Fraser who was the bow-and-arrow to Ray’ssawn-off shotgun. It was probably friendlier than Chicago, where direct eye contact constituted a reason for getting shivved and stuffed into an ambulance.</p><p class="p1">Ray figured Canada was a great chunk of land full of pious affability, and any gaps were probably filled with donut holes.</p><p class="p1">He was wrong, of course.</p><p class="p1">When they flew into Pearson (Toronto being their transfer stop) he’d been kind of shocked at how wrong he’d been all along.</p><p class="p1">Ray had learned fairly early on that Canadians as a group were not all like Fraser. Fraser was an anomaly across the board. No one was like Fraser. The Canadian criminals they’d booked over the years had proven that point spectacularly. They’d been dangerous, uncouth, and some of them downright assholes, but Ray still figured Toronto would be new and somewhat shiny, a watchtower of common decency–something like that. He didn’t think it’d be <em>the same</em>.</p><p class="p1">Walking around Toronto in the winter–well, it kinda looked<em> exactly</em> like Chicago. The cars were the same, the dirty slushy snow was the same; The winter coats and gloomy faces were the same. Even the trains were the same: dull grey, old and tired, clunking away on their tracks until they rusted out.</p><p class="p1">If someone had shoved photos of each city under Ray’s nose, he would have been hard pressed to tell the difference between them. There was graffiti on the brick walls of bars, and garbage trucks stuck leaning into snowed-over gutters, and sure, the mailboxes were red–not blue–but they were still <em>there</em>, in the fucking <em>way</em>, right where people needed to <em>walk</em>.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t disappointing <em>per se</em>, but it wasn’t great either. Fraser just made it <em>sound </em>so much better. That’s because Fraser was an endless optimist, driven by his desire to spread the joy he found in everyday encounters with other people. He’d rabbit on about weird salmon jerky with anyone who’d listen, be they the guy at the gas station picking up cigarettes, or the stockbroker at the convenience store who smelled faintly of cigars, dry sweat, and tax evasion.</p><p class="p1">Where Fraser was the optimist, Ray leaned more towards the ‘fuck them, fuck you, ah, fuck it all’ kind of mentality.</p><p class="p1">By the time they had to go back to the airport after a ten-hour delay, due to the shitty weather, Ray was <em>already</em> over this trip, and it wasn’t getting better. Their connecting flight was longer, taking them west across the provinces.</p><p class="p1">They flew commercial, so the plane was jam-packed with sniffly kids and arguing spouses, and Ray was truly grossed out by the sweaty peanuts the stewardess (flight attendant, Ray) handed him. He tore into them, though, because he was also <em>fucking starving.</em></p><p class="p1">“I thought you said the Canadian dialect was as diverse as the lower forty-eight?” Ray leaned over and grumbled at Fraser, who sat at the window (because if Ray looked too far down, he got woozy.) “Everybody on here sounds like they stepped right out of<em> Generic Accent Magazine</em>, Fraser.”</p><p class="p1">Fraser turned those wide blue eyes on him and blinked. “There’s a magazine for–?”</p><p class="p1">Ray made a face and chewed his peanuts loudly. Fraser snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “Ah.” He was a much better at reading Ray’s sarcastic overtones. He glanced around the crowded cabin, eyes scanning every person in his sightline. “Well, I believe the Ontario accent is the most generic, as you would say, but there is nuance therein. That couple over there, you see–” he pointed and Ray twisted in his seat. “They’re most likely from Halifax, out east. And them–” he pointed to a set of parents with their three noisy, sticky-fingered kids, “–most likely Northern Quebec.”</p><p class="p1">“French doesn’t count as an accent,” Ray sighed, sitting upright and smacking his head against the headrest of his seat.</p><p class="p1">“I know that, Ray,” Fraser said with a smile in his voice.</p><p class="p1">“How much longer we gotta be sardined up here?” Ray said, not ceasing his head-bashing.</p><p class="p1">“Oh, uh,” he envisioned Fraser conferring with his watch. “Another three hours before we reach Fort McMurray.”</p><p class="p1">“Which is where again?” Ray griped, eyes closed.</p><p class="p1">“Northern Alberta.”</p><p class="p1">“Which is why again?”</p><p class="p1">“That’s not a question, Ray.”</p><p class="p1">Ray opened one eye. Fraser was leaning in awful close. The smell of him was comforting. He had put away the stupid hat, thank God, seeing as he wasn’t on duty, but Ray would bet the minute they touched down, the thing would make a reappearance. It would climb out from wherever Fraser had stashed it and make its presence known.</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">Benton</p><p class="p1">—</p><p class="p1">It was times such as these that Fraser was glad for his style of living, that is: limited and lacking in <em>things</em>. Because of this, he was able to pack light, thereby ensuring his airplane luggage would be minimal.</p><p class="p1">Ray wasn’t much better than Fraser, being that his own duffel was only a couple pounds heavier, but <em>his</em> things were in his apartment, whereas Fraser’s most important possessions were always on his person or at least within arm’s reach.</p><p class="p1">Those possessions were his hat, his uniform, Ray himself and of course, Diefenbaker. With so few things, it made disembarking and moving from the plane to the Fort McMurray International Airport much smoother than if they’d brought along stowed luggage. The only stop they had to make was to locate Diefenbaker, who had been forced into the cargo compartment of their plane, much to his disgust.</p><p class="p1">Fraser was going to pay dearly for that one.</p><p class="p1">The wait in Fort McMurray wouldn’t be too long, but Ray was getting skittish, as indicated by him biting his lower lip and the way his knee juddered along right beside Fraser’s where they sat in the small waiting area. They hadn’t had much sleep since leaving Chicago, so Fraser was sympathetic to Ray’s nerves.</p><p class="p1">He had a flash of an idea. “I’ll go get us a couple coffees,” he said, suddenly on his feet. Ray looked up at him, startled. He did have a tendency to fade away into his own head.</p><p class="p1">“Uh, you sure?” Ray frowned in that way that tugged at his upper lip making him look skeptical. Oh, cynical Ray and his never-ending suspicions.</p><p class="p1">Fraser smiled. “This one’s on me.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I don’t even have Canadian cash, so yeah.” Ray smirked and Fraser had to hold back the urge to lean in and kiss him.</p><p class="p1">Walking through the small airport wasn’t very exciting. It wasn’t busy and there were very few people about.</p><p class="p1">“Two coffees, black, please,” he said to the old woman behind the rickety kiosk. She nodded and poured them out herself, the small flimsy white polystyrene cups just solid enough to hold the scalding liquid in one place.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you kindly,” he said, handing over a couple toonies. The drinks were piping-hot, so he moved a little quicker back to where Ray was.</p><p class="p1">It was the hat that always got him noticed..</p><p>
  <span> <span class="u">"Pardon, monsieur, est-ce que tu peux nous aider?"</span> </span>
</p><p class="p1">He turned, hands hovering in the air. A young couple with a baby came up to him.</p><p class="p1">“Ah, yes, of course, <em>bonjour</em>. What can I do for you?”</p><p><span> <span class="u">"Je disais qu'il avait l'air, non?"</span></span> the woman turned and tutted to her husband. “Ah, you speak French?” she said to Fraser with a stuttering, but lilting accent.</p><p>“I certainly do,” Fraser smiled. He wavered. “If you could hold on a moment, I would like to just deliver these–” he held up the coffee cups and the couple nodded graciously. He didn’t think they’d follow him all the way back to Ray, who was sprawled on one of the few airport seats, long legs jutting out over the pale linoleum floor, his eyes squinting out the wide airport window at the bleak sunshine. “Coffee,” Fraser said.</p><p>Ray jumped, “Shit, you’re like a ghost. A Canadian poltergeist.” He sat up and took the proferred cup. Then Ray’s brows crooked, looking past Fraser’s shoulder. “You pick up some strays already? We’ve only been here twenty minutes.”</p><p>Fraser turned to see the young family waiting close-by. “Ah, well, you see–um.” Again, he wavered his attention between the three adults and a baby. “I’ll be back.” He nodded at Ray and walked over to the couple who immediately broke into scattered French. Fraser responded as best he could.</p><p><span><span class="u">"On essaie de parler avec la compagnie aérienne, mais ils ne veulent pas nous écouter,"</span></span> the mother said.</p><p>
  <span><span class="u">"Ils veulent que nous attendons pour les nouvelles sur les vols, mais il n'y a pas de nouvelles, ni aucune vol a notre destination annoncé. Je ne sais pas si ils ne veulent pas nous écouter ou bien si notre anglais est trop pire.</span>"</span>
</p><p>“Hm,” Fraser sucked in his lips and considered that.</p><p><span>"<span class="u">On pensait,</span></span>" the husband hesitated. <span>"<span class="u">On pensait peut-être la gendarmerie aurait meilleure chance à commander l'information?</span>"</span></p><p>“Ah,” Fraser considered that. He could see the airline desk from where he stood, the airport being as tiny as it was. <span>"<span class="u">Pourquoi pas?</span>"</span> he smiled and escorted them across the linoleum.</p><p>When, thirty minutes later, he made his way back, it was to find Ray staring, watching as he approached, with furrowed brows and an empty coffee cup beside his boot.</p><p>“My apologies,” Fraser sighed and sat down beside him.</p><p>Ray watched him a moment longer, his pale eyes sharp, observing. “You speak French,” he said.</p><p>“Why yes,” Fraser nodded and pulled off his hat before anyone else sought him out for assistance. Diefenbaker whuffed in annoyance. He was under one of the seats, presumably, though Fraser did not spot him.</p><p>“What’d you do?” Ray asked.</p><p>“I just had a nice chat with the man at the airline desk. Seems he’d neglected to tell the family about changes to their flight plans and I suggested perhaps he let them know where and when they should go.”</p><p>“Really?” Ray squinted at him and Fraser smiled back.</p><p>“Does that surprise you?”</p><p>“What? That you help strangers all the time, even on vacation? Or the French thing?”</p><p>Fraser shrugged and turned his hat between his fingers. “All mounted police must be fully bilingual,” Fraser said. “We do learn it in school as well.”</p><p>“Yeah, figures,” Ray said, nudging his knee into Fraser’s. “Just, I guess, I’d never heard you speak another language like that before. ’S kinda hot.”</p><p>Fraser looked at him. Ray was a little pink around the ears. He smiled, feeling warmth blooming under his own winter coat. “I see,” he murmured. <span>"<span class="u">Parlez-vous même un seul mot de français?</span>"</span></p><p>Ray made a face. “What?”</p><p>
  <span>"<span class="u">La langue français, Ray, c'est si belle.</span>"</span>
</p><p>Ray’s eyes bored into him and the pinkness from his ears was slowly creeping up his cheeks. Ray wasn’t one to blush, not ever, so this was well worth investigating.</p><p><span>"<span class="u">Je suis tellement content que tu es venu avec moi au Canada,</span>"</span> Fraser said softly. "<span><span class="u">Je voudrais passer le temps avec n'aucune d'autre.</span>"</span></p><p>“What are you saying?” Ray blurted. “Is it dirty? Are you being dirty in public, ‘cos that’s not fair, Fraser. You know it ain’t.”</p><p>Fraser smiled wider and tilted his head. "<span><span class="u">Je t'aime, vraiment. Tu me fais sourrire.</span>"</span></p><p>“Maybe later,” Ray said, huffing awkwardly and crossing his legs, ankle jittering on his knee. “I mean, if you’re saying dirty shit. I’d probably dig it. Whatever it is, we’ll do it later.”</p><p>Fraser couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from his throat.</p><p>—</p><p>Ray</p><p>—</p><p>“That’s our plane?” Ray asked skeptically, eyeing the toy on the tarmac. “You’re shittin’ me. Fraser, that can’t possibly keep its nuts and bolts attached, nevermind keep us in the air!”</p><p>Fraser was carrying their bags because Ray was dragging his feet.</p><p>“Now, Ray,” Fraser said, turning and grinning at him, “We were lucky to get this charter. Sura is an old friend of mine. He’s doing us a favour. Besides, it’s this or we drive for a whole day to Yellowknife, and the weather could take a turn. It’s treacherous landscape out there, you know.”</p><p>Ray grumbled and griped and pulled his hat down over his freezing ears.</p><p>Dief, walking beside him, mimicked his rumbling. The poor wolf had been cooped up with the dogs and cats on the plane like some standard house pet.</p><p>“Dief, you don’t think we should stay here? This place has, like, buildings and shit. It’s North enough, isn’t it?”</p><p>The wolf yipped at him then dashed away to catch up with Fraser and his long legs.</p><p>“Traitor,” Ray sighed but followed suit.</p><p>—</p><p>Benton</p><p>—</p><p>They rented a truck to get to the cabin. For Fraser, it was a route he knew very well, having traversed these roads most of his life. It wasfamiliar and it warmed his soul to be back.</p><p>Ray couldn’t stop talking about the whiteness all around them. It was very endearing. “Jesus, Frase,” he was saying as they drove. “Look at this. You guys live this way all year?” He pointed out the windshield at the bright snow and ice.</p><p>“Well, no, Ray,” Fraser said. He eyed Dief in the rearview mirror. The wolf was fast asleep. That hotdog from the gas station would tide him over for a while. Fraser made a mental note to pack the freezer with more meat. “Summer has only just passed. It’s quite beautiful in Spring, actually. The lakes are clear, the wildlife plenty. You should visit then, maybe next season.” He cut himself off before he said any more. Ray <em>visiting</em>, that’s what he’d said. That was different to him and Ray vacationing here.</p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” Ray said. He drummed his fingers on the car armrest. “You know, I’m so stupid, forgetting to get my money changed over to Canadian.” He turned to look at Fraser. “Sorry about that. You’re footing the bills here. I’ll pay you back.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s no bother,” Fraser said. “I certainly owe you for all the times you paid for miscellaneous expenses I incurred while working with the Chicago P.D.”</p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” Ray muttered. He fell silent and watched the wide valley open up wide, the purest of blue skies wrapping around them.</p><p>—</p><p>Ray</p><p>—</p><p>This time around the trip to Canada was different. When Ray had been here last, they’d just finished up the career-defining case of their lives and couldn’t be fucked to think beyond a few weeks of quiet downtime. This time they were visiting as part of Ray’s paid leave, accumulated from months of worked overtime. He’d wanted to get away from it all, get away from the job, the other detectives and their whining faces; get away from the criminals and their bailout fund managers. He was<em> exhausted; </em>Tired of rounding up scumbags, booking them, and then watching them waltz right out of the station with rat-bastard grins on their filthy rich faces. Being a cop was tough sometimes–most times, actually.</p><p>Ray deserved a damn break. He needed time away from his personal life–well, what was left of it. He couldn’t yet face Stella and her news about getting together with Vecchio. <em>That</em> one was going to take time. Why it still hurt, deep inside -that she and Ray hadn’t worked it out, that she couldn’t stay - he couldn’t figure that out. It had been years now since the separation, time enough to be over it all. Ostensibly, it made sense that they weren’t married anymore. He wasn’t a moron.She didn’t love him like that no more. She <em>could</em> do better. Vecchio was better, probably. If Fraser loved him like a brother then maybe Stella had seen that same something inside the guy, a guy worth loving, but for real this time. Ray was going to come around to the idea eventually. He just needed time and space.</p><p>Fraser was the one who told him about their hookup because apparently no one, not even Stella, had had the cojones to tell Ray themselves. What kind of unpredictable asshole <em>was</em> Ray, if people couldn’t be honest with him to his face about his own ex-wife?<em> Jesus.</em></p><p>Fraser did it though, talked him through it; Gently, too. With big soft eyes and hat in hand, he broke the news: Stella was moving to Sarasota with Vecchio and they were getting married. <em>Damn.</em> Stella deserved to be happy. So did Vecchio after what happened near the end there, poor guy. What a way to retire, though. Ray couldn’t it hold against them. He was tired of being bitter all the time. He needed to come out from under the weight of his problems.</p><p>Fraser was like the light under the door for him. He enticed Ray to come back out into the world, promised it wasn’t all bad all the time. Finding Fraser and being partnered with him on a random undercover gig–Ray wasn’t a spiritual kinda guy, but he believed it <em>had</em> to be fate. God was working overtime here. He figured heaven had tried desperately to carve out the perfect man (I.e.: Fraser) and was then mighty frustrated when their perfect man wasn’t hooking up or getting married to someone, anyone of equal stature, even at the age of thirty-eight. Who in heaven or hell thought pairing a uniformed mountie with Ray Kowalski was a good idea? God, they must be desperate up there.</p><p>If you’d said to Ray five years ago that his wife would leave him, that he’d be fighting crime with a mountie and a <em>wolf</em>, he woulda knocked your teeth in. It made zero sense. But that’s how it had to be. His story could <em>only</em> work with Fraser because Fraser made <em>zero</em> sense.</p><p>It took a certain kind of crazy to offset Ray’s jitterbug style of detective work. Fraser took everything in stride, like a champ. Barely anything ruffled his red feathers. You’d have to hog-tie him and threaten to cut his head off with a rusty blade before he even considered having a feeling about it.</p><p>Fraser <em>had</em> feelings, yes, they were just more abstract than Ray’s. Fraser was like one of those Ed Hopper paintings: all quiet and muted but you could figure stuff was going on behind the scenes, beyond the shadows, behind the closed doors. Ray was definitely more of a Pollock kinda guy. He was all feelings, all the time, at maximum velocity. He was sloppy, messy with misplaced empathy, and always open, always wearing his heart on his sleeve. Why anyone stuck around was the real question here, but he took what he could get.</p><p>And the getting was good nowadays. He could admit that out loud, heck, he <em>did</em> regularly, much to Fraser’s joy. Fraser liked to hear Ray yak about the things that made him cranky, made him skittish, made him happy. Ray yakking about his emotions and what he was going through really seemed important to Fraser, so why not?</p><p>His job and his dead marriage aside, Ray could admit he <em>was</em> happy. He’d taken the long way round to get here, obstacles be damned, but it was true. Failure was never easy for Ray. It probably wasn’t easy for anyone, but he felt it keenly under his fingernails and in his hair, that everything he failed at was visible to everyone: friends, family, even strangers on the street. He was like a road map of dumb shit and stupid mistakes, dotted with markers and pins showing exactly where he went wrong and how others could learn from him.<em> Take a left at marrying your school sweetheart and make sure to avoid the one-way road to career suicide by not punching out a witness needed for a key testimony.</em></p><p>He knew he’d been put on undercover duty so he could salvage his career. You threaten the state prosecutors enough times and you get put in timeout. Or in the penalty box, as Fraser would say.</p><p>Thank Christ for Fraser. He’d been the exact kind of crazy Ray needed to reorient himself, adjust his life’s trajectory.</p><p>It came to him like a bolt of lightning one night. He’d been down at processing, booking a couple of violent grifters, when Fraser had come walking down the corridor, coat flapping and wide-brimmed Stetson nodding, and Ray had felt this smile bubble out of his own chest like it was being pulled to the surface by a puppet string. It’s a whole big thing when your heart starts racing all fast for no reason, and your cheeks hurt ‘cos your favourite person just showed up. <em>God, what a feeling.</em> Realizing you’d maybe-kinda-<em>shit</em>-what-the-hell fallen for your partner was a lot to process when you were also trying to remain professional and keep it together in front of the wide array of convicted felons sitting in the holding cells.</p><p>Fraser made Ray happy and he couldn’t really say why. It was just… good. Good was happy and happy was good. Everything made sense when Fraser was around. He was the balm to Ray’s explosive burn. He never stopped Ray from freaking out, he just worked him down a notch to a bearable volume. He wanted to prove that Ray was valuable, smart and worth listening to, not just to his bosses, but to Ray himself. Fraser could wade through the yelling and the head-stomping and could <em>hear</em> Ray, could see him. And that’s… that’s a lot to hold onto.</p><p> </p><p>—</p><p> </p><p>Ray was getting the hang of the stove now. He wasn’t big on propane and open flames, but Fraser’d used shit like this his whole life so Ray was determined to figure it out. He'd woken up feeling groggy, still overcoming the jetlag and weariness he'd had in his bones upon arrival. It was getting better though.</p><p>"You want ‘em over easy?” Ray said loudly over the sound of Fraser kicking his boots clean at the door.</p><p>“Sunny side up, please,” Fraser murmured, probably bent over and untying said boots.</p><p>“How was the depot?” Ray said, cracking two more eggs into the cast iron pan. “You get to talk to Cassie about the waterline break?”</p><p>“Ah,” Fraser came into view, shaking out his wet hair not unlike Diefenbaker. God he looked good with ruddy, flushed cheeks. Fraser leaned in to kiss Ray’s jaw. “Yes, Cassie handled the matter quite swiftly. In fact, she was commended highly for moving faster than expected. The locals get really tired of slow feedback from local government.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Ray said, watching the eggs pop and crackle. He didn’t want to ask too many questions about the water for the cabin and where it came from, but he figured if Fraser wasn’t concerned about a pipeline break-and-repair in town, then he wouldn’t worry either. The shower inside the cabin was small but still spat out boiling hot water, so Ray couldn’t really care beyond that. He’d been surprised by the upgrades Fraser had made. Word was he used to wipe himself down with snow every other day. Now Ray didn’t mind a bit of Fraser’s scent all over the place, but a hot shower, well, it was worth it up here in the north where men’s balls could freeze and fall off.</p><p>He flipped the eggs onto the oval platter they used for sharing meals. Ray kept a shopping list in his head for supplies. They needed more cutlery. One spoon, two bent forks and a pile of misshapen knives did not a good kitchen make. A couple extra plates wouldn’t hurt.</p><p>“Mmm,” Fraser took the platter and set it on the foldout table while Ray turned off the burner. The toast was still warm, so Ray scooped it up and plopped a couple slices on each of their plates. “These Louise Braithwaite’s eggs?” Fraser asked.</p><p>“I guess,” Ray shrugged.</p><p>“I can tell by the deep orange of their yolks,” Fraser nodded. “Sign of a good hen.”</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Ray slumped onto the metal stool opposite Fraser’s. “Your coffee’s been waiting.”</p><p>Fraser smiled and thanked him.</p><p>"Where's Dief?" Ray quirked a brow. Usually the wolf was all up in his face for food at this hour.</p><p>Fraser sighed, "He found a warren of rabbits, so he'll be occupied for a while." He shook his head. "They are far too quick for him."</p><p>They ate breakfast like this every morning. It was kind of nice. Sometimes Fraser would have to visit the depot for updates, and sometimes Ray would go with him into town, but most of the time they just sat here quietly and enjoyed one another’s company.</p><p>It was such a change of pace. Ray ate his breakfast efficiently, cutting the eggs and toast into manageable, bite-sizes before mopping up the mess with a leftover crust.</p><p>Fraser seemed distracted.</p><p>“What’s going on in that ol’ coconut of yours?” Ray asked, finally putting the spoon and knife down.</p><p>“Hm?” Fraser blinked up at him. “Oh, nothing.”</p><p>Ray kicked him under the table where their ankles always got twined together for lack of any room.</p><p>“What?” Ray raised his brows high.</p><p>Fraser sighed, “Oh, I just caught up with the gossip from the Academy and how training is going with the new recruits.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ray sprawled over their tiny table, elbows encroaching on Fraser’s side. “And?”</p><p>“The horses have been brought in and each recruit is learning the basics. I–I just have fond memories about that time of my life.”</p><p>“Horses?” Ray frowned, “Wait, you rode a horse? You can ride a horse?”</p><p>“I’ve ridden many horses, Ray,” Fraser smiled wanly. His plaid shirt was open, showing off his grey long-sleeve tee underneath. Fraser looked good on vacation. Too good.</p><p>Ray got to his feet and leaned over the table. Fraser put his fork down. Ray grinned.</p><p>“Tell me more about you and these horses. I honestly figured the horses were, like a joke.”</p><p>“Well, no,” Fraser murmured, eyes flicking over Ray’s face. “We are, after all the Royal Canadian <em>Mounted</em> Police. We are all trained to ride and handle horses. I, in fact, learned to ride quite young. It’s almost second nature. Like ice-skating and hockey.”</p><p>“Ice-skating,” Ray murmured.</p><p>“Yes, Ray,” Fraser’s voice had dipped lower. Ray’s stomach did a flip.</p><p>“You wanna tell me more about this, but–” he tilted his head, “–in bed?”</p><p>Fraser’s eyes lit up and he smiled. God damn, Ray loved seeing that look on his favourite mountie’s face. “Now that sounds promising,” Fraser hummed, and got to his feet, the remains of his breakfast forgotten.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” Ray backed away, tripping over his own socked feet. He waved Fraser closer, like he was luring in a stray cat. “C’mon Fraser, a little quickie before we head back out into the wild unknown to hunt deer or whatever the fuck you got planned.”</p><p>Fraser walked closer, following Ray over to the messy bed covered in twelve kinds of blankets.“I don’t have anything planned,” Fraser murmured. “I thought we’d have ourselves a quiet day. Some peace, even.”</p><p>“Not too much peace, I hope,” Ray grinned and pulled Fraser to him. “We still gotta restock the gas and groceries.” He wasn’t the only one who thought Fraser was taller than him, and was always excited to find their lips lined up perfectly because, as it turned out, Ray Kowalski was the same height as Benton Fraser. Self-awareness was a damn virtue.</p><p>Fraser leaned in to kiss him, capturing Ray’s lips. Big, cold hands tripped over Ray’s t-shirt. He’d been able to keep warm, what with the small fireplace and the burner going all morning. Fraser’d been out in the daylight where it was cold and dry.</p><p>Ray tipped them back onto the bed and Fraser grunted. He was pretty pleased with himself.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>Fraser in bed wasn’t too different from Fraser on duty. He was concise and knowledgeable, but always listened for feedback. Comparing his gentle deftness with Ray’s wanton dirty mouth didn’t require too much scrutiny, not when you really got to understand how they worked. You see, Ray <em>did something</em> for Fraser–Ray wasn’t sure what–but he’d realized, once they got this thing on the road, that he had <em>something</em> the mountie liked.</p><p>Maybe Fraser just enjoyed having Ray naked in his bed, sprawled out like a sweaty animal. Or maybe he was a tactile sort of person who needed to touch and taste whatever he could reach.Could a guy be tactile with his eyes? Maybe. It sure felt like it when Fraser would settle <em>that</em> look on Ray. He never <em>said</em> he was horny, or even hinted at it. Ray wasn’t sure Fraser could parse that kind of data verbally. He’d just get this glaze over his eyes, an intensity, and he’d stare into Ray’s fuckin’ <em>soul </em>and then lick his lips like he was considering his options before taking action. It was, unfortunately for Ray, <em>very</em> attractive.</p><p>And really, anything could set it off. If Ray walked around without a shirt, Fraser’s eyes would follow him about the room.</p><p>If Ray invented new cuss words after hitting his toe against the godforsaken chest by the bed, Fraser would watch him hop around like an idiot, then roll him onto the bed with a grin and a laugh.</p><p>If Ray was inspecting Bob Fraser’s rifles, talking about cailbers re: size of prey, or just proving how good his aim was, well, that got Fraser going as well. It might have been the glasses too (lord knows Ray couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn without ‘em).</p><p>So Ray had something Fraser liked.</p><p>Which felt good, real good. Ray hadn’t felt any kind of sexy in years. His last few months with Stella, before she cut him loose, they’d had zero chemistry in bed.</p><p>Ray’s sensitive about sex. Getting iced out slowly by Stella had done a number on him. Maybe, he thought, maybe he wasn’t as good with women as he thought he was. Maybe his sex appeal was in his head. Maybe Vinny Donohue had been right, back in high school when he’d said girls only went with Ray ‘cos they felt sorry for him.</p><p>Fraser taking an interest had been the curve-ball of all curve-balls. It was a slow thing, but deadly. Ray, see, he’s not the quickest when it comes to guys paying him any attention. Women he could read. There was a rule book about flirting with women. There were winks and gestures, touches and certain key words to listen out for.</p><p>Men? Who the fuck knew? He didn’t much go for the brazen jackasses who leaned into his space when he was drinking at a bar. He wasn’t <em>in</em> with the whole gay crowd either, being kind of lost in the mess of whatever his sexuality had evolved into, so he didn’t understand the rules of play. He didn’t know what worked and what didn’t.</p><p>Then there was Fraser. No one could read <em>his</em> signals because the man <em>had</em> no fuckin’ signals. Flirting with the Mountie was like kissing up to a pine tree: prickly, dry, unresponsive, and people around you got real awkward if they had to bear witness.</p><p>Not that Ray flirted with him. Ray was too dumb to try that on his partner while holding a flaming torch for the guy.</p><p>No, it was Fraser who had altered things. Ray wouldn’t have seen it coming. Fraser was subtle. He’d started touching when he and Ray bent over maps and photos; a hand on Ray’s back, or his thigh against Ray’s leg. He’d comment on Ray’s new cologne, noting the brand and harmonic notes it exuded. Christ, Ray had only settled on his current cologne because Fraser had said it smelled very <em>Ray. </em>It took Ray a few weeks to figure it out, but even under his own suffocating veil of gay-panic, he could tell Fraser’s eyes followed him around the room <em>a lot</em>. Plus, he always threw himself into the line of fire to protect Ray, which was <em>so</em> dumb. For such a charming, well-read guy, Fraser really was some kind of extraordinary idiot.</p><p>Ray sweating through his own attraction to the Mountie could only be topped by the realization that, miracle of miracles, the Mountie had it hot for <em>him</em> too.</p><p><em>What a time to be alive</em>.</p><p>He never thought he’d wind up with his hands down his partner’s fancy pants, but who could have foreseen it? He felt like a teenager around Fraser, all horny and bent at the hip about it. Their first time together had been hasty and messy, and lacking good judgment considering they’d been on stakeout at the time and had been forced to follow up dirty-quick handjobs with four more hours of silent perp-watching and bad, sweaty hair.</p><p>Ray hadn’t expected all of this, but again, he would take what he could get while the getting was good.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>They’d picked up supplies when they’d arrived in town but needed to stock up. Ray could tell that the locals were keeping an eye on him as he wandered around the small grocery store. It wasn’t much more that a corrugated metal storage unit with hand-written prices along the shelves, but it was better stocked than Ray expected.</p><p>Fraser had gone off to get fresh cuts of meat and had left Ray to locate whatever else he thought they might need. So far, he’d picked up some dry pasta, a couple cans of beans and a six-pack of beer. Ray had no idea what the fuck they were doing.</p><p>“Ah, there you are,” Fraser appeared out of nowhere, laden with steaks and what looked to be enough frozen sausages to feed the entire RCMP.</p><p>“Corporal Fraser,” the woman with the long braids behind the cash said. She must have been sitting on a chair propped up on a box or something because the counter itself was chest-height and she sat comfortably above Ray’s eye-level. “Welcome back. I heard a rumour you were in town.”</p><p>“Ah, indeed,” Fraser nodded and smiled. “I thought I might go undetected this time.”</p><p>She smiled and rang up their purchases carefully by tapping in the barcodes manually. “Ah, when one of you Mounties make an appearance, we know about it.” She tapped her nose. “My nephew.”</p><p>Fraser tilted his head, “Your…?”</p><p>“Peter Stone,” she smiled wide, “Finished up his own training with the RCMP, you know. Spends half his days helping your men out and the other half keeping the community safe. Or so he says.” She shook her head and laughed. “He’s young still, and a mighty gossip.”</p><p>“Ah!” Fraser’s eyes lit up, “Yes, I have heard of Peter. That’s wonderful news.” He glanced at Ray, then blinked. “Oh, excuse my rudeness. Maniitok Stone, this is my partner, Ray Kowalski.”</p><p>Ray nodded, “Hey, how’s it goin’.”</p><p>“You boys are in town for a while?” Maniitok said.</p><p>Ray shrugged, “Couple weeks, yeah.”</p><p>“Ray’s a Chicago detective. We’ve worked a number of cases together,” Fraser sounded very proud.</p><p>Maniitok looked Ray over. Her gaze wasn’t critical, but he could see her trying to read him as if he were a book.</p><p>“The Mountie here,” she grinned. “He never brings visitors.”</p><p>Ray scratched at the hair behind his ear. “Ah, yeah.” He didn’t know what to say to that.</p><p>“Thank you kindly,” Fraser said, bundling up their food supplies into the canvas knapsack he’d brought. He paid with the colourful Canadian money and coins before giving the cashier a smile.</p><p>“Nice meeting you, Mr Kowalski,” she said with a smile. “I hope we see more of you.”</p><p>Fraser hustled them out the door and Ray rolled his eyes when he saw Dief halfway out the backseat window of their rental.</p><p>“Careful!” he cried, going to push the wolf back inside. “You could hurt yourself, buddy.”</p><p>Fraser put the groceries in the back seat and shooed Dief away from the meat. “Later,” he shushed. “Don’t look at me like that. Your impatience will get you nowhere.” Dief gave a soft howl, full of self-pity. Fraser sighed and slammed the back door. “You complete animal.”</p><p>—</p><p>Benton</p><p>—</p><p>There really was nothing like it. Fraser did enjoy being home. It was reassuring, knowing not much had changed while he’d been gone.</p><p>The additions he’d made to the cabin last summer had been a good adjustment, making his life here even better. Ray didn’t need to know that before there was plumbing, there’d been a hole in the ground outside.</p><p>Sitting on the porch, he was able to watch the already perpetually low sunset and keep himself busy.</p><p>“Whatcha doin’?”</p><p>Fraser looked up. Ray and Dief were clomping up the deep pile of snow they’d had yet to clear from the front of the cabin. “Just getting dinner started,” Fraser squinted as the sun bounced off the glistening snow. “How was the walk? Brisk?”</p><p>“Brisk, he says,” Ray shivered, rubbing his mittened hands together. He was doubled-up with layers: a coat and scarf, hat, mittens, boots, the whole lot. “It’s <em>freezing</em>.”</p><p>Fraser didn’t tell Ray that he reminded Fraser of fat and healthy antarctic penguins: round, puffed up and bursting with noise.</p><p>Dief bounded up the wooden steps and into the cabin, where the fire was just starting up again after Fraser had replenished the wood.</p><p>“Food, huh?” Ray halted on the bottom step. He squinted at Fraser. “What’s for eats?”</p><p>Fraser showed him. He was skinning and cutting up the deer he’d been lucky to find fresh at the butcher.Discounted because it hadn’t been completely cut up yet. What a find! “I’m separating the meat into freezable portions for later meals. I also started pickling some of the vegetables we bought earlier in the week, if you want to help after this?”</p><p>Ray made a face. “Pickling? Jeez, Fraser, you’re like my babcia, pickling and fermenting crap like it’s the war. Next thing you’ll say we’re gonna dry some of the meat on hooks.”</p><p>“We could do that,” Fraser smiled. “I’m well-versed in homemade dried jerky. It’s very nutritious and holds well long through the winter months.”</p><p>Ray was watching his hands work. “You really know what you’re doing, huh?” he said, coming up the steps. He pulled his hat off, revealing a mess of blonde hair. “Your dad teach you all of this?”</p><p>Fraser laid out a strip of deer hide that he’d peeled off the flesh. “Some things, yes,” Fraser nodded. “But it was mostly my grandparents who taught me this.”</p><p>Ray watched him deftly slice into the meat, his knife sharp. He laid out the hunks on a metal sheet at his feet, the porch table too small to hold much more. “This should make a good few dinners.”</p><p>“You’re good with that knife,” Ray yanked a mitten off with his teeth.</p><p>“Well, it comes with practice,” Fraser intoned calmly, eyes focused on his task. “Shouldn’t take me much longer, if you want to get warmed up inside?”</p><p>“All right,” Ray sighed and tromped past him. “Aw, Dief! You know you can’t be on the bed! You’re covered in slush!”</p><p>—</p><p>Ray</p><p>—</p><p>One day, some of the locals actually came to visit, which was <em>weird.</em></p><p>“What do you <em>mean</em> people just show up unannounced?” Ray hissed, quickly pulling on his jeans and a shirt.</p><p>Fraser was already dressed and tying his boots.</p><p>“Hello! Corporal Fraser?” the voice outside the cabin said. The knocking resumed.</p><p>“Coming!” Fraser said through his teeth. He stood up, at attention.</p><p>“Yes, Ray, people visit. I know it’s alarming and not very Chicago, but that’s how it is.”</p><p>“Jeez, okay,” Ray said, slipping a sweater–Fraser’s sweater, he realized too late–over his head.</p><p>Fraser went to greet their visitors and Ray followed, shoving his feet into his boots as he went.</p><p>He met the group outside, gathered on the snow.</p><p>Two of them were most definitely Mounties in their navy uniforms and hats. The other two must be locals.</p><p>Ray shivered and went back inside to get his coat on. Damn these people for being better adjusted to the weather. Fraser wasn’t even in <em>his</em> heavy jacket<em>.</em></p><p>“Ah, there he is,” Fraser cried out when Ray reappeared. “Ray, come over and meet my colleagues. This is constables Marilyn Eves and Derek Pinsent.”</p><p>The two Mounties nodded in greeting. God damn, they all smiled like that, huh?</p><p>The other two people nodded hello as well.</p><p>“And this is Peter Stone, cousin of Maniitok, whom you met the other day. And this is, er–”</p><p>“Saliyeh,” the woman beside Peter smiled. “Tribal liaison.”</p><p>“Hi,” Ray grumped.</p><p>“It’s very nice to meet you, detective Kowalski,” the guy, Pinsent said. “We have heard a lot about Corporal Fraser’s and your work across the border. It’s nice to put a face to a name.”</p><p>“Uh, sure,” Ray said. He wasn’t great before noon.</p><p>Fraser had that stupid fond look on his face again. “Well, yes, anyway,” he pressed on, “These fine folks just came to catch me up on the news from the depot.”</p><p>“You were there, like, four days ago,” Ray frowned. “What could have changed?”</p><p>“Well, not much, Ray,” Fraser smiled. “But time with friends is never wasted, now is it?”</p><p>Ray decided not to point out that two of these ‘friends’ Fraser had only just met, one of whom he couldn’t even recall the name of.</p><p>“Ah, yes,” Constable Eves nodded briskly, “About that. We have an update for you, sir.”</p><p>“Ah, business,” Fraser laughed. “Let’s take this on a walk, shall we? Diefenbaker is due one anyway.”</p><p>The three Mounties drifted off across the snow, leaving Ray with Peter Stone and Saliyeh, tribal liaison.</p><p>“They’re a strange bunch,” Peter chuckled, watching the two on-duty Mounties and Fraser in his plaid jacket wandering off. “These Mounties.”</p><p>“Tell me about it,” Ray sighed. Dief bounded off into the distance.</p><p>“We came to say hello and welcome you to the community, detective,” Saliyeh smiled up at him. She had a friendly face and warm eyes.</p><p>“Thanks,” Ray smiled back, “I mean, I’m not staying long, but yeah. It’s nice. Out here, I mean. It’s not like, the hustle and noise and stink of Chicago, so it ain’t all bad.”</p><p>Jesus, why not insult their entire country while he was at it?</p><p>The two of them laughed.</p><p>“I’ve never been to Chicago,” Peter said. “New York, yes. It’s a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah, it is.” Ray sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, jeez, where are my manners, you wanna come inside? We got tea and a fireplace?”</p><p>The two visitors smiled. “We’d be delighted.”</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>“So fur-trappers are still a thing?” Ray said incredulously. “In this day and age?”</p><p>Saliyeh nodded, “Oh yes. It’s big business. There are restrictions, of course, laws, especially with the seal fur trade, but yes. Fur-trapping is alive and well.”</p><p>“And you guys monitor that stuff?” Ray was sitting on the messy bed while the two guests took the metal breakfast stools. He’d given up pretending to clean the cabin for them. What did they care if the dishes from last night weren’t washed just yet?</p><p>“We do our best,” Peter sighed. “Very little law enforcement out here.”</p><p>“I bet,” Ray said. “Fraser says the depot’s new. Said it got built up bigger recently so as to accommodate more police officers, Mounties–er–whatever is needed.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Peter nodded. “The community needs more hands. We may be small but we’ve got a lot of trouble here some days. People get tired and lonely. A lot of business heads south, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ray nodded. He didn’t know, but sure. Made sense.</p><p>“Corporal Fraser is very well-liked,” Saliyeh said. “Or so I have heard. I only moved here a year ago. I was teaching at UBC in Vancouver.”</p><p>“Oh?” Ray blinked, “You teach? What do you teach? Like, aboriginal–er–ethnic studies or somethin’?”</p><p>She smiled, “Mathematics.”</p><p>Ray wanted to <em>die</em>. “Shit, wow. Yeah, of course. Fuck, sorry I sound like a real moron. Jeez.” He covered his face, embarrassed.</p><p>She laughed, “It’s okay. I’m used to it. Not just from Americans, you know.”</p><p>“Ah.,” Ray scrubbed his hand over his face, “Look, just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean it’s right. Sorry.”</p><p>“She does, what was it again? Mechanical Mathematics?” Peter said, looking across the small table at Saliyeh.</p><p>“Industrial mathematical modelling and linear algebra,” she laughed. “See?” she pointed at Peter. “It’s not easy to remember.”</p><p>“Damn,” Ray was impressed. “That’s really cool, whatever that is.”</p><p>“It is,” Peter said with a look on his face that reminded Ray of Fraser when Ray said something particularly brilliant.</p><p>
  <em>Ah. Young love.</em>
</p><p>A thumping noise was all the warning they got before Diefenbaker shot through the front door and bolted about the room.</p><p>“Hey! Dief!” Ray barked. “Settle down.”</p><p>This was followed by Fraser appearing at the cabin door.</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt,” he smiled, the light of the world outside making him glow.</p><p>“Nah, all good,” Ray sat up straighter. He stretched his arms and clicked his back.</p><p>“We should get going,” Saliyeh said to Peter.Ray followed them out the front door. The other Mounties were standing at attention with those dumb grins on their faces. Ray narrowed his eyes as he watched them salute Fraser. Weird.</p><p>“It was lovely meeting you,” Saliyeh said to Ray.</p><p>“Likewise,” Ray nodded back. “Uh, come visit again. I guess?”</p><p>Peter laughed. “Oh, we won’t bother you. You two need the quiet time, I’d guess.”</p><p>The two of them smiled in a way that made Ray wonder exactly how much they knew about his and Fraser’s arrangement. When the truck they’d come in was long gone, Ray turned on Fraser. “They know we’re fucking.”</p><p>Fraser’s eyebrows shot up. “Ah.”</p><p>“Did you tell them all?” Ray huffed and turned to go inside.</p><p>“I did not,” Fraser said slowly, shutting the cabin door behind them. “Why would I, Ray?”</p><p>“Well, they figured it out somehow,” Ray sighed and flopped down onto the stool Peter had recently vacated.</p><p>“Indeed, it would have to take a detective such as yourself to figure that out.” Fraser looked around the room, eyes roving over their piles of mixed clothing, their stacked plates, the messy, unmade bed and the very large bottle of lubricant on the floor, and he smiled.</p><p>“Yeah, I dunno,” Ray threw up his hands. “Fuckin’ mystery.”</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>Fraser had cut his hair before their trip.</p><p>Ray could feel the spiky little hairs against his palm as he scritched his fingers over Fraser’s scalp.</p><p>Fraser loved getting his hair pulled or played with. It was a lovely little quirk Ray had discovered one night when they’d been making out on Ray’s sofa. “Mm, Ray,” Fraser bit at his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Ray chuckled and scratched his other fingernails down Fraser’s neck. Fraser shivered and goosebumps prickled all over his skin. <em>“Ray.”</em></p><p>They’d been kissing for a good long while. Snow-shoeing through the Canadian wilderness was a helluva workout. Who knew you could get fucking exhausted by just stomping about the woods while chasing rabbits through the snow?</p><p>They’d come back to the cabin and found a delivery crate on the porch which turned out to be a whole pile of, well, oranges.</p><p>“Special delivery!” Fraser had smiled with excitement. “Right from California, Ray.”</p><p>Special because they couldn’t get much fresh fruit this time of year and it cost about as much as Ray’s car insurance did. Sidenote: Ray didn’t know that watching Fraser expertly peel an orange with a hunting knife would turn him on. There was something about Fraser’s hands and fingers, so talented with sharp objects and soft fruit, that just got his engine running.</p><p>Which was how they’d ended up here, all arms and legs on the bed again.</p><p>Fraser was leaning over him, polite enough to not crush Ray no matter how many times he asked for it. He had a boner, though, judging by the hardness jabbing Ray in the thigh. He grinned into Fraser’s mouth and pushed his hips up, rubbing against him.</p><p>“Mnn,” Fraser hummed and pushed down to meet Ray. God, but they were <em>so good</em> together. Ray didn’t know how or why this worked, but it did.</p><p>One minute he’s lovesick over a woman who didn’t want him anymore, the next, he’s humping a Mountie.</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser mumbled, kissing at Ray’s lips, then his chin. “Ray.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Ray let his head fall back to the bed, eyes closing.</p><p>“This is wonderful,” Fraser kissed his way down Ray’s neck. He paused at Ray’s shirt. Then he pushed up onto his hands. “This is my shirt,” he said.</p><p>Ray blinked. “Huh?”</p><p>“You’re wearing my shirt, Ray.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ray made a face, “I guess?”</p><p>Something in Fraser’s eyes lit up and Ray realized that maybe this was gonna be one of those kinky things. Like, maybe Fraser got frisky at the thought of Ray wearing his stuff. “I like this,” Fraser said, rubbing his hand over Ray’s chest. “Very much.”</p><p>“You <em>dog</em>,” Ray grinned.</p><p>Fraser kissed him some more, pressing his hand under the shirt to get at Ray’s nipples.Ray had very sensitive nipples. He didn’t know why, but they responded to everything: cold air, hot air, dry fabric, Fraser’s tongue, you name it, they made an appearance. Fraser rubbed two fingers over Ray’s left nipple and hummed along Ray’s jaw, licking as he went.</p><p>“Hey, Frase,” Ray said, watching the Mountie slowly work his way down his body. “You ever go down on any women?”</p><p>Fraser paused. He looked up, hair in disarray, eyes a little confused. “Sorry, what?”</p><p>“You <em>know</em>,” Ray laughed and waved a hand through the air. “You ever spend some quality time down there, between legs, but with a woman or two?”</p><p>Fraser frowned, “Why are you asking?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Ray licked his lips. “It just occurred to me, is all. I bet, if you did, the women appreciated it. They think you’re crazy hot already, so add in some spice and they musta ‘bout died. Or maybe I was thinking how good your mouth is. I bet that talented tongue of yours could do some real fancy work on a woman, you know?”</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser said sternly, “I’m not one to talk about my past–er–interludes.”</p><p>“Aw, c’mon, Fraser!” Ray sat up suddenly. He grinned. “I’m just curious. I don’t want any names or faces or anything. I just–” and judging by the look on Fraser’s face, he might have to backtrack a little. “Okay, look. I personally enjoy going down on women, okay? It’s one of those great little secrets you can share with a chick. And it’s the <em>best</em> when you get it right. I…” his brain wandered off down memory lane before Fraser cleared his throat.</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser sat up properly on the bed. He was in his grey long-sleeved t-shirt, rumpled and warm and <em>damnit</em>, really fuckin’ cute. “I don’t underst–”</p><p>“Fraser, <em>Frase</em>,” Ray leaned in and pressed his hands to either side of Fraser’s face. “I dunno, okay? I just like talking about stuff like that. It… uh, it turns me on, okay? Talking about sex, talking about that tongue doing things to a lady, getting her all wet and whatever. God, that is just one of my things, okay? You don’t have to say anything.”</p><p>Fraser’s eyes flickered over Ray’s face. “You do like to talk in bed.”</p><p>Ray grinned, “I mean , I’m no saint. I say what I gotta say. And I’m all about you, you know. It’s not about who the–the women were, are, or nothing. It’s me thinking about you getting your rocks off. See, that’s a turn-on as well. But we don’t have to talk about stuff. I’m good with you and that tongue and those lips and this–” he palmed Fraser through his jeans and Fraser inhaled sharply, probably still surprised that Ray wanted to touch him at all.</p><p>Fraser made very good sex faces. “Ngh,” he grunted and opened his mouth to speak. He faltered, seemed to consider his options and then said, “I may have at some points, yes.”</p><p>“May have what?” Ray asked, hand kneading Fraser gently. He was getting good at this. And to think, a few months ago he wouldn’t have known how to drive stick at all.</p><p>“Women, that is, ah. Well,” Fraser stumbled forward, leaning into Ray’s touch and seeking out his lips. He mumbled something and Ray laughed.</p><p>“Wait, Fraser, what?”</p><p>“I did enjoy doing…<em>that</em> with women. On occasion. Yes,” Fraser muttered, his teeth nipping at Ray’s lip.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Ray rumbled, his voice dipping down, rough around the edges. “You like eating out, Frase?”</p><p>Fraser huffed out something akin to a whine and pressed his lips to Ray’s cheek. “Do you want to hear that?”’</p><p>“Yeah,” Ray turned and caught his lips again. “I do. That sounds hot.”</p><p>They kissed, tongues tasting and licking until Ray fell back, yanking Fraser down with him.</p><p>They wrestled one another out of their clothes, throwing them every which way until Ray was able to flatten Fraser to the bed.</p><p>“God, Fraser, just thinking about you going down on a chick, it, yeah, <em>Jesus,</em> that gets the engine revving.” He crawled down Fraser’s body, nipping and licking over a nipple, ribs, then belly, until he found Fraser dick, hard and ready for him.</p><p>Fraser’s eyes were dark, eyelids heavy as he watched Ray lick up the length of him. “Ray,” he said.</p><p>“This workin’ on you, Frase?” Ray grinned, licking at the head.</p><p>“It is, yes. I believe so, as evidenced–” he gasped when Ray enveloped him with his mouth and sucked him down.</p><p>Ray had tried a handful of times to figure the best way to give a blowjob. Trial and error had taught him to just be careful and take it slow. Fraser didn’t mind what he did, so the pressure was off. He liked to suck Fraser off, even if he wasn’t all that talented yet. Fraser would return the favour sometimes and he was, frustratingly, very good at it. Ray was doing his best to not treat it like a contest.</p><p>Fraser was making these small sounds, broken gasp, whispers. <em>God,</em> it was a thrill. Ray pulled off Fraser’s cock and licked a stripe from root to tip. Fraser’s fingers dug into the blankets, making Ray smile. He smacked his lips. “Yeah?” Ray said.</p><p>“Oh yes,” Fraser panted, eyes closed, head thrown back. “Very good, Ray. Excellent, even.”</p><p>Ray clambered back up the bed, kissing and rubbing his stubbled chin along Fraser’s ribs. “You want to fuck me?” he rumbled. Fraser groaned. Ray could feel his heart thumping. He kissed Fraser, all sloppy tongues and wet lips. Fraser wrapped his arms around Ray and squeezed him tight. “Is that a yes?” Ray said.</p><p>“Oh, yes, sorry,” Fraser pulled away and looked at him as he always did when trying to be frank. <em>Eye contact implies respect, Ray.</em></p><p>Ray grinned down at him. “Well, that’s good.”</p><p>“Don’t mock me,” Fraser said with consternation. Ray wriggled atop him and Fraser shuddered as their cocks rubbed together. “All right, yes, okay,” Fraser gasped before rolling them over. He leaned down over the side of the bed and flailed about for the lube. It wasn’t fancy stuff, just whatever Ray was able to grab at the drugstore before leaving Chicago. He wasn’t fazed by the look the cashier had given him either, which was a sign of the new him, a changed man.</p><p>Fraser fumbled with the tube, squirting a dollop on his arm by accident, and consequently, the bed sheet.</p><p>Ray sat up on one elbow, amused. “You okay there?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Ray,” Fraser exhaled sharply, attempting to pick up the smears running down his arm.</p><p>Ray snickered, “C’mere.” He scooped up the mess from Fraser’s elbow and rubbed what he'd gathered all over Fraser’s dick. “How about that?” Ray said, voice low. “That working?”</p><p>“Unh,” Fraser nodded sharply, then squirted out more lube onto his hand.</p><p>Ray tugged him back into position and Fraser batted at his hand. “I cannot concentrate when you’re doing that,” Fraser huffed. Ray pulled his hands away and laid back on the bed, hands flat beside his head. It was still chilly in the cabin, but he could bear it. He could bear a lot.</p><p>Fraser was gentle with him, as he was with everyone. Ray didn’t think he’d be much into having a guy’s fingers or dick anywhere near his ass, but people can change.</p><p>“Mmm,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Ray?”</p><p>“All good, keep going.”</p><p>Fraser was a great learner of new things. Somehow, between the two of them, they’d figured out how to get this part of the relationship going. Blowjobs and handies had done them in good stead for ages until Ray had suggested this. They got there eventually with a lot of touches and hilarious accidents along the way.</p><p>“Mmh,” Ray grunted when he felt Fraser pressing in. “Damn, that cock of yours is lethal.”</p><p>“I can st-”</p><p>“Fraser, shut up and keeping going, I swear to God.”</p><p>“All right, Ray,” Fraser kissed his nose, then his lips.</p><p>Oh.</p><p>Yeah, that felt really nice. <em>Oh</em>.</p><p>Ray’s breathing was heavy. He rubbed his hands up and down Fraser’s back as the Mountie moved, sliding and thrusting into him.</p><p>Ray scratched his nails up Fraser’s back, up his neck and into his hair. Fraser shuddered and pressed himself to Ray, hips moving steadily.</p><p>“Ray,” he shivered into Ray’s ear and <em>holy hell</em> did that send goose bumps down Ray’s neck. Fraser had found Ray’s personal weak spot a while back. He nipped at Ray’s ear, licked at it.</p><p>“Jesus, Fraser,” Ray gasped, twitching at the onslaught of friction and buzzing underneath his scalp. “Just like that. Yeah.”</p><p>“You are really–” Fraser panted, moving harder, faster inside Ray, “–really wonderful, Ray.”</p><p>It was things like that that made Ray’s heart thunk a little louder inside his hollowed out chest. Fraser kissed him, open mouthed and teeth biting. Fraser’s hips moved out of rhythm, juddering as he pumped into Ray. He was close.</p><p>“C’mon, Frase,” Ray licked at his mouth, kissed him. “C’mon now.”</p><p>“I love this,” Fraser breathed against him. “All of it. Here. You.” Ray could get soft and gooey around Fraser, but only sometimes; Like right now.</p><p>“I know,” he whispered and felt Fraser push into him one last time.</p><p>“Unh,” Fraser moaned, brow furrowed. Oh, he sounded so good.</p><p>Ray snaked his hands down between their bellies to find his cock. He jerked himself quickly, watching Fraser as he did so. He panted into Fraser’s mouth, the sound of his lubed hand slicking up between them. He could feel Fraser hard and heavy inside him still and that was <em>hot</em>.</p><p>Fraser opened his eyes just as Ray reached his climax. Their eyes met and Ray gasped, biting his lip, staring into Fraser’s eyes as he came</p><p>“Ah, <em>Jesus.</em> <em>Fraser,</em>” he bit out, shaking from his orgasm. Fraser was panting, watching him.</p><p>“You are so lovely like this,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss Ray. <em>Jeez.</em></p><p>Heart still thumping a mile a minute, Ray went limp, arms and legs now made of jello. “I’m dead,” he exhaled shakily.</p><p>Fraser chuckled, “I assure you, that is not true.”</p><p>“You killed me,” Ray closed his eyes.</p><p>Fraser hugged him closer and nuzzled under Ray's ear. “I certainly hope not, Ray. That would put quite the damper on this vacation.”</p><p>It was almost half an hour before Ray was back to his senses. He had a tendency to zone out after a good round of sex. Especially if it was Fraser helming the expedition.</p><p>Fraser was awake, carding his fingers through Ray’s hair, holding him close.</p><p>“Fraser?” Ray said.</p><p>“Yes, Ray?”</p><p>“You gonna tell me about the job, or what?”</p><p>Fraser’s hand stilled. He swallowed audibly. “Who told you?”</p><p>“No one,” Ray said, calmly. “I’m a fuckin' detective, remember? And you're the worst liar on earth.”</p><p>“Ah,” Fraser nodded, eyes not meeting Ray’s.</p><p>Ray frowned and twisted in Fraser’s arm. “Were you <em>going</em> to tell me?”</p><p>“Yes, well,” Fraser cleared his throat. “You see, Ray, it’s not quite–”</p><p>“Just out with it,” Ray said, pinching at Fraser’s skin.</p><p>Fraser jerked back. He hesitated, “I hadn’t thought I’d get word so soon,” he murmured softly.</p><p>“It’s the depot here, isn’t it?” Ray said. “They offered you a position.”</p><p>“Yes,” Fraser said. </p><p>“How long you been looking for work, Frase?” Ray asked.</p><p>“Not long,” Fraser said. “I–um–well, I had asked last time we were in Canada, but there wasn’t anything available, and with my promotion to corporal, it was becoming clear that I had to come home, Ray.”</p><p>Ray watched him for a moment, considering his words. “Yeah, obviously.”</p><p>Fraser blinked. “What?”</p><p>“Obviously you gotta come home, Fraser,” Ray said, annoyance seeping into his voice. “I get that. You’re–you’re part of this place. You fit here. This is where you belong. I get it.”</p><p>Fraser stared at him.</p><p>“What?” Ray scowled, “That sounds crazy coming from me?”</p><p>“Ray, I–” Fraser muttered, “I’m surprised. Though I probably shouldn’t be. You are, after all, a concisely intelligent detective whom I should have been confiding in all along. I suppose I am truly a fool.”</p><p>“I’m also your fucking partner,” Ray said. “You can’t hide anything from me. That's not how it works.”</p><p>Fraser nodded slowly. “I didn’t–I couldn’t–” his voice trailed off in frustration.</p><p>Ray took pity on him. He sighed. “Fraser, I know you gotta go home. I’ve known that for a while. Chicago ain’t you. You don’t gotta stay there.”</p><p>“But you–”</p><p>“It’s not about me,” Ray sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fuck, Frase, Canada’s not across the damn ocean. It's like three great lakes and a polar bear away. It’s not like we couldn't see each other, or stay in touch.”</p><p>“No, Ray, I want–”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Ray said, looking up at the ceiling of the cabin, at the old wood beams that stood for over sixty, maybe a hundred years before Ray came along.</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser’s finger tilted Ray’s chin back towards him. “I’m not moving here and assuming this is over. You and me, it’s important to me.”</p><p>“I know that,” Ray said, even as his heart skipped a beat. God, he’d been lying to himself. He did know it. Had known it all along.</p><p>“I’m not letting you go,” Fraser said in that calm, soothing way of his. It sounded perfectly reasonable.</p><p>“Well, I mean, I could move out here,” Ray said, then immediately backtracked. “Or we commute, whatever. It’s not an issue–”</p><p>Fraser kissed him. It wasn’t rushed or forceful, it was gentle, like a whisper. “I don’t care how we do it,” Fraser said against Ray’s chapped lips. “Just as long as we stay together.”</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>“My grandmother used to say–”</p><p>“Aw, c’mon, Frase,” Ray moaned, flopping his head onto Fraser’s naked shoulder. They stared up at the ceiling of the small cabin. “Not another life lesson about saving the rendered bacon fat for winter or whatever. I promised I wouldn’t toss it out, okay?”</p><p>Fraser’s hand came up and he trailed his fingers through Ray’s hair. “Actually, I think you need this.”</p><p>Ray huffed but remained silent, givingpermission.</p><p>“My grandmother said once,” Fraser started up again, “that it’s not sensible to hold fast to mistakes just because you’ve spent so much time on them. She said it was, well, silly, really, to hold onto something that doesn’t want to be held anymore.”</p><p>Ray absorbed that and frowned. “What were you doing at the time?” he asked. “Building a failed igloo? Trying to save a deer from falling over a cliff?”</p><p>Fraser’s chest rose as he inhaled slowly. Ray pressed his palm to Fraser’s stomach. “No, I had made a terrible mistake, Ray. I had said something hurtful to a friend, in a pique of temper -Daniel McCabe, he was - I had insulted him by accident. Daniel never did forgive me for my harsh words, even at the age of twelve–"</p><p><em>"Twelve?"</em> Ray squawked. "Oh, God, Fraser–"</p><p>"My grandmother watched me try to regain his friendship,” Fraser sighed. “She watched me apologize over and over again. But Daniel wanted nothing from me anymore, so she sat me down one day and explained that sometimes the things we fight hardest for aren’t always the things best for us.”</p><p>Ray frowned. “So… what’re you saying? I ain’t one for picking through your metaphors or whatever. You gotta spell it out. Take it easy on a guy.”</p><p>“Well,” Fraser shifted so Ray was completely flat against the mattress. He got up on one elbow and looked down at Ray. His hair was a mess. He pressed a big, warm hand to Ray’s sternum.</p><p>“I think that your divorce, your perceived failings…” he thought for a second. “I think that yes, you spent years trying to make them all work. You wanted your career, your relationship, everything to go smoothly and you put hours, years of effort into each. But Ray, just because you took the time doesn’t mean you have to forever feel guilty for your marriage dissolving. Do you understand what I’m saying?”</p><p>Fraser’s eyes were dark, gentle. Ray watched him, wondered why Fraser was so intent on making sure he didn’t hate himself every other second.</p><p>“You’re saying I gotta let shit go?” Ray said hoarsely.</p><p>“I’m saying you don’t have to consider yourself a failure forever for things you can’t fix.”</p><p>Ray huffed loudly and pulled Fraser’s fingers between his own. He held Fraser’s hand between both palms, fingers rubbing, holding. “Maybe,” he murmured, eyes unfocused. Stella would be fine without Ray. And more cases would keep flowing through the two-seven’s doors and even more criminals would get out free on stupid technicalities. But he didn’t have to control all that anymore. He couldn’t.</p><p>“I’m gettin’ old, Frase,” he murmured, then pulled Fraser’s fingers to his lips.</p><p>“You’re thirty-seven, Ray,” Fraser smiled.</p><p>“Start digging my grave,” Ray grumbled. “Order the headstone, man. Time’s done a number on me. I used to be twenty. All pep and stamina, know what I mean?”</p><p>Fraser watched Ray kiss his knuckles. “I’m trying to imagine a twenty-year old Ray Kowalski.”</p><p>“I’m thinking of a tight, fit twenty-something Ben,” Ray rumbled. He smiled and peered up at Fraser. “You must have been a total babe.” Fraser rolled his eyes. “Bet there was nobody around to tell you either,” Ray grinned, imagining a beautifully fresh-faced Benton Fraser living out here in the middle of nowhere, unseen and unnoticed. Man, Fraser would have been eaten alive in Chicago.</p><p>“I was already a member of the RCMP at twenty.”</p><p>Ray blinked, “What? You’re shittin’ me. I didn’t apply to join the force til I was, like twenty-two.”</p><p>Fraser smiled. “I knew I was always going to be a mountie. Applied at eighteen.”</p><p>Ray frowned, “I thought you couldn’t apply that young? Isn’t that, like, against some labour law or something?”</p><p>“Well, you can apply, but recruitment only allows recruits nineteen and older. I was getting early screenings for compatibility testing.”</p><p>“Jesus, Fraser,” Ray sighed, letting his arms flop against the bed and against Fraser’s chest. “That’s nuts.”</p><p>“So I’m told,” Fraser murmured. “I’m starting to think I may have been too goal-oriented as a child. Very set in my ways too early on.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Ray hummed. He turned and snuggled in closer to Fraser and nipped at his collarbone. “Maybe, I dunno. We can’t change the past.”</p><p>“Very true, Ray.” Fraser said with a slight hitch in his breath as Ray’s lips travelled up his neck.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>Ray didn’t really <em>get</em> the majesty, the grandeur, of Canada until he came face-to-face with the almighty moose.</p><p>“Jesus <em>fuck,”</em> he exhaled.</p><p>He was standing on the small wooden porch of the cabin, facing south. The sun was casting sharp pale-blue shadows over the snow. He had a giant mug of coffee in his hands and a plaid blanket thrown over his shoulders because he couldn’t be assed enough to pull on his jacket.</p><p>They’d been here well over a week now and he’d already settled into whatever kind of life this was. Crashing face-first into a warm bed had been the first order of business, of course, but after that, Ray had discovered he kinda liked the quiet of the great Canadian outback.</p><p>“Fraser!” he yelled. “C’mere. We got a visitor!”</p><p>He sipped at his coffee, eyes still on the moose.</p><p>It. Was. <em>Gigantic.</em></p><p>Humongous. Gigantamongous. As big as the <em>moon.</em></p><p>“No way you’re real,” he murmured. The beast must have been six feet tall at the shoulder, <em>minimum. </em>No way the motherfucker was an inch under that. Its <em>legs</em> alone could clear the top of his GTO.</p><p>The moose loped slowly over the deep snow, very much used to navigating the troughs of thick pillowy whiteness, unlike Ray who still hated wearing snowshoes (he shouldn’t have to strap tennis racquets to his feet just to walk about).</p><p>“Oh my, <em>Ray</em>,” Fraser’s voice came from somewhere behind him, “please come here.”</p><p>“Fraser, <em>look,</em> a fuckin’ moose! Jesus, he’s massive. Or is it a girl? Do girl mooses have antlers?” Ray squinted.</p><p>“I believe it is a male, yes,” Fraser murmured. Ray could hear his boots crunching in the snow. He must have been out by the wood shed. Ray turned. Fraser clomped closer, eyes on the moose. He had his hat on and that red plaid jacket that just <em>screamed</em> ‘I’m outdoorsy, beefy, and maybe a little colour-blind’.</p><p>“He’s <em>massive</em>,” Ray repeated himself.</p><p>“Ray, please come here,” Fraser waved a gloved hand at him. Ray frowned.</p><p>“What? No, I’m in my socks. You come here.”</p><p>“Ray, I would prefer–” Fraser stopped himself, huffed, tilted his head for a moment, then stepped closer.</p><p>Ray stared at the moose. It had slowed and come to a halt. It turned its giant head, antlers casting weird shapes over its snout. The thing blinked at them.</p><p>“Wow,” Ray exhaled.</p><p><em>This</em> was Canada.</p><p>Holy fuck, how had no one ever mentioned the sheer size of these things? Surely they were too big to even exist? How did it eat? <em>What </em>did it eat? He sent up a thank you to whatever saint was listening, thanking them for making Mooses… Meeses… for making them herbivores.</p><p>“He eats plants, right?” Ray quirked a brow.</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser was right behind him now. “I think we need to distance ourselves a bit.”</p><p>“Fraser, look at him. <em>Look at him.</em> He’s a king, ain’t he? King of the forest, this guy. Ain’t nothing gonna take him out without his permission.”</p><p>“Well,” Fraser paused before continuing. “Ah, moose do tend to range… along this one’s height and weight. Not unsurprising really. The predators are slim around here.”</p><p>“Hm,,” Ray turned and was surprised Diefenbaker was not, in fact, ready to pounce. He wasn’t even in sight.</p><p>“Look at the hooves on him,” Ray said in awe. “Hey, if he kicked me–”</p><p>“Oh, you’d die instantly, Ray.” Fraser was right up behind him now, Ray could feel the warmth radiating off him even through the blanket. Maybe that’s how Fraser survived the cold better than most people: he was an actual human furnace who had to live in sub-zero temperatures, like a polar bear.</p><p>“I think it would be best if we went inside,” Fraser said with that note of caution he used around ex-cons wielding machetes.</p><p>Ray looked at him and frowned. “Fraser, we have an example of Canada’s majesty right in front of us. I don’t want to look away. I kinda wish we had a camera.”</p><p>Fraser’s eyes went a little distant and he sucked on his teeth. Ray only ever saw that face when Fraser was caught between an ethical reason for committing an illegal crime and the illegality of the crime itself. “I see.”</p><p>Fraser went inside, leaving Ray to stare at the overgrown moose in the front yard, if their front yard constituted the southern half of the Northwest Territories.</p><p>“What’s up, big guy?” Ray said over the lip of his fast-cooling coffee. “You lookin’ for food?”</p><p>The moose tilted its immense head and stared athim with one dark, round eye. It shifted, turning a little towards Ray. “Goddamn, lookit them antlers,” Ray whistled, wondering if these were the kind that were made of hair or bone. He could never remember. Fraser would know.</p><p>He heard the sounds of Fraser tromping around behind him.</p><p>“Hey, Frase, those horns, they the kind made–what the fuck are you doing?” He frowned at the rifle in Fraser’s hands.</p><p>“It’s a precaution, Ray,” Fraser said with a tilt of his hat.</p><p>“It’s a <em>moose</em>, Fraser, not a mountain lion.”</p><p>“I can see that,” Fraser said carefully. “But moose can be quite - ah, deadly. They’re very large, you see.”</p><p>“No shit,” Ray waved a hand in the direction of the beast blocking out <em>the sun</em>.</p><p>“Ray,” Fraser said with a look in his eye that usually got Ray’s blood rushing and his dick perking up. It was the voice he used to corral bad people, the voice of order. Who knew it would also control Ray’s idiot dick? “Moose can panic easily and I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”</p><p>“You can’t shoot Marni!” Ray cried.</p><p>Fraser’s eyes closed and he tilted his head skyward. “You named it.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ray grinned, “Marni. Marni St. Hornington. Antlerton. I dunno, I’ll pin the family name down later. We’ll draw up a family tree.”</p><p>“Oh, Ray,” Fraser sighed and rubbed his face with the hand not holding the .30 caliber rifle. “You can’t start naming the wildlife.”</p><p>“You named Dief,” Ray retorted.</p><p>“Diefenbaker is not wild, well, not anymore,” Fraser sighed again. He looked at Ray.</p><p>“So if I name ol’ Marni, you can’t kill him.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t try to kill him,” Fraser said. “I would fire off a warning shot, just to scare him away.”</p><p>“Oh, good idea, Fraser. Scare a twelve ton animal with hooves the size of flying saucers. Man, look at him. He could sit on the car and crush it.”</p><p>“Many moose do,” Fraser said solemnly. “A lot of drivers die in collisions with them, as the moose legs are so long, the impact simply tips them over, thereby crushing the driver and their passengers inside the vehicle.”</p><p>“That is so <em>sick</em>,” Ray said, awed. “Canada is so <em>sick.</em>”</p><p>Marni the moose wasn’t watching them anymore. He just stood there like a giant statue made of fur, muscle, and kneecaps.</p><p>“If I was an animal, I’d like to be a moose,” Ray said. He sucked back the last dregs of his coffee and set the mug down on the crate they used as an outdoor table. “Nobody would fuck with me.”</p><p>“Ray.”</p><p>Ray turned and looked at Fraser’s gentle eyes. The Mountie was smiling that dopey smile of his. “Nobody messes with you, even now.”</p><p>“<em>Fucks</em> with me, Fraser,” Ray grinned, ever amused by Fraser’s inability to swear. “And yeah, they do. They see a scrawny six-foot blonde guy in glasses and think I’m something they can tackle. Been that way my whole life. Fuck, man you didn’t grow up like I did. You had your ice and your wolves or whatever. I had concrete schoolyards and shit heads whose brothers ran with the mob.”</p><p>“But people know better.” Technically, Fraser was right. Fraser knew from experience that no one could get the drop on Stanley Kowalski. He was really good by now at throwing punches and breaking noses. But that was <em>learned</em>. Much like the way Fraser could track a killer through the brush and always get his man, Ray could defend himself against all comers, even when backed into a corner.</p><p>“Some people, yeah,” Ray exhaled, “But I still get shit.”</p><p>“Mm,” Fraser hummed and stood at attention and watched Marni the moose with Ray until the animal decided they weren’t worth his time and he loped off down the snowfield.</p><p>“Bye, Marni,” Ray waved.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Fraser tutted.</p><p>—</p><p>Benton</p><p>—</p><p>“All right,” Constable Eves said with a smile. “System upgrades are in progress, sir,” she nodded at Fraser. “Never thought we’d ever see the day we got new equipment.”</p><p>“Fantastic,” Fraser said and clapped his gloved hands together. He looked around the RCMP depot, just big enough for a medium-sized detachment of officers. “Well, I suppose when I return, that will be my first day on the job.”</p><p>“We’re looking forward to it!” Constable Pinsent said. He seemed quite excited by the prospect. The two constables walked Fraser out and down to ground level.</p><p>“Now you have yourselves a good few days left of vacation, sir,” Marilyn smiled. The sun was long gone by now and Fraser needed to get back or else Ray would be stacking up rifles against the as-yet-unseen wild bears of the north. “We will, thank you.”</p><p>“You tell Detective Kowalski to keep kicking butt in Chicago,” she said.</p><p>“I-uh, all right, yes I will,” Fraser nodded, surprised but amused by her language.</p><p>“Let me walk you to your vehicle, sir,” Pinsent said, snapping to attention.</p><p>“No need, constable,” Fraser smiled. “I do need to be getting back, though.”</p><p>The two constables looked at one another.</p><p>“What?” Fraser frowned.</p><p>“Oh, nothing,” Marilyn said, her lips tight with a hidden smile. “Nothing at all. We’ll be seeing you soon, sir.”</p><p>Fraser kept his face neutral and left with a wave. On his way back to the car, he pondered the strangeness of his own people.</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>He stopped off at the grocery store to pick up some canned corn, something that Ray seemed to enjoy (it was beyond Fraser, but so be it).</p><p>Maniitok was at the register, all smiles. She quietly rang through his items and he threw in some toothpaste and a couple extra toothbrushes.</p><p>Fraser watched her pack up the goods in his bag.</p><p>“So that Ray Kowalski,” Maniitok said suddenly.</p><p>Fraser paused, his thoughts on dinner, and looked at her. “Ah, yes?”</p><p>“He’s your…”</p><p>Fraser paused, considered the question, tried to figure out what she might be saying. Then simply said, “Yes.”</p><p>“And you’re both…”</p><p>“Yes, indeed.”</p><p>Maniitok tied a knot in his canvas bag and pushed it across the counter.</p><p>She smiled, “That’s nice. Good for you.”</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>—</p><p class="p5"> </p><p>The two of them were stuck together with sweat and other stuff, sprawled over the bed like despoiled ancient romans.</p><p>“Fraser?” Ray sounded soft.</p><p>“Yes, Ray?”</p><p>“You really like me, don’t you?”</p><p>“I do,” Fraser sounded completely sincere.</p><p>Ray inhaled shakily. Emotions: god damn them. He pushed in closer, flopping his arm over Fraser’s pale stomach. “You sure about that? I’m a fucking mess, you know. Failed marriage, fuck-up of a son. Got no friends.”</p><p>Fraser kissed Ray’s hair and pressed his other hand to Ray’s arm. “Absolutely positive, Ray. One hundred percent.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>French translations:</p><p>Wife:<br/><em>"Pardon, monsieur, est-ce que tu peux nous aider?"</em><br/>Excuse me, sir, can you help us?</p><p><em>"Je disais qu'il avait l'air, non?"</em><br/>I told you he looked like one, didn't I?</p><p><em>"On essaie de parler avec la compagnie aérienne, mais ils ne veulent pas nous écouter."</em><br/>We're trying to talk with the airline, but they don't want to listen to us.</p><p><em>"Ils veulent que nous attendons pour les nouvelles sur les vols, mais il n'y a pas de nouvelles, ni aucune vol a notre destination annoncé. Je ne sais pas si ils ne veulent pas nous écouter ou bien si notre anglais est trop pire."</em><br/>They want us to wait for news on flights, but there isn't any news, nor have any new flights to our destination been announced. I don't know if they don't want to listen, or if our English is just too bad.</p><p>Husband:<br/><em>"On pensait peut-être la gendarmerie aurait meilleure chance à commander l'information?"</em><br/>We thought maybe a Mountie would have a better chance at commanding the information?</p><p>Fraser:<br/><em>"Pourquoi pas?"</em><br/>Why not?</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Fraser to Ray:</b></p><p> </p><p><em>“Parlez-vous même un seul mot de français?"</em><br/>Do you speak even one word of French?</p><p><em>"La langue français, Ray, c'est si belle."</em><br/>The French language, Ray—it's very beautiful.</p><p><em>"Je suis tellement content que tu es venu avec moi au Canada,"</em><br/>I'm very happy you came with me to Canada.</p><p><em>"Je voudrais passer le temps avec n'aucune d'autre."</em><br/>There's no one else I'd rather spend time with.</p><p><em>"Je t'aime, vraiment. Tu me fais sourrire."</em><br/>I love you, really. You make me smile.</p><p> </p><p>-<br/>Apologies for any spelling or grammar.</p><p>Thank you for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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